


All Good

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-26
Updated: 2009-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, those nutty Ancient devices. Sheppard has a Swiss cheese memory. Ronon wonders why he's been forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Good

Ronon found Sheppard wandering near the West Dock wearing a pair of bathing trunks and sun glasses and nothing else.

"Hey! It's you again. Ronon, right?"

"Yeah, hey." Ronon clicked on the radio unit. "I found him, McKay."

 _"Oh, thank God. Would you please just..._ sit _on him or something this time?"_ Rodney begged.

"It's not my turn." And it made Ronon uncomfortable seeing Sheppard like this—so happy and defenseless, like he wasn't worried about anything, and sure wasn't ready to protect himself from trouble.

Also, Ronon really wasn't used to seeing Sheppard almost naked. It made his fingers itch to touch even more than usual.

_"Please, please, please? Teyla's not back yet, and Zelenka and I are getting close to figuring out the device."_

"Yeah. All right. Over and, um, out." Ronon clipped the radio back onto his belt. "What're you doing?" he asked Sheppard, who had wandered away again and was sitting with his feet dipped in the water.

"Thought I'd go swimming, but the water is too cold. Why's it so cold?"

"Uh. Because it's winter?" Ronon settled down beside him.

Sheppard frowned. "Oh, yeah."

"There's a steam room and a heated pool on the east side. It's pretty shallow, but it's warm when you turn it on."

"Terrific!" Sheppard pushed himself up and then offered him a hand. Ronon took it, a little surprised. Sheppard hardly remembered him at all, and usually didn't like strangers touching him.

That was before, though. Before McKay and his stupid device.

"You're a cool guy," Sheppard said. "How did we meet again?"

"On P3M-736. I captured you and Teyla."

"I don't remember that," Sheppard said sheepishly. "'Course, I don't remember much these days."

"No, not much." Or at least, Sheppard seemed to remember stuff pretty selectively. He said he remembered Ronon's first movie night, when Sheppard had introduced him to _The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai_. He remembered Ronon beating up his marines and shooting the shit out of the target during his first week on Atlantis. But Sheppard didn't remember Carson cutting the transmitter out of Ronon's back. He didn't remember the Iratus bug, or being tortured by Kolya.

He didn't remember the wraith at all.

"Come on. We'll take the transporter."

Everyone agreed, when out of Sheppard's earshot, that it was weird to see him happy like this. And maybe that said something about the lives they led, or maybe it said more about Sheppard—how different he was without the layer of memory.

But then, Ronon figured _he'd_ be pretty pleased if he didn't remember the wraith, either. He thought of his grandfather, of when he had the second childhood, and his happy wanderings, safe in a fog.

"Is it much further? Because I'm getting cold," Sheppard said, shivering a little now they were out of the sun.

That was another weird thing: this Sheppard actually was a bit of a wimp. Not that Ronon would say anything—Sheppard had to get his memories back sometime, and Ronon felt reluctant to give him any bad ones of this period.

Assuming McKay could fix this.

"It's just through here." Ronon led him inside and then activated the transporter, dropping them in the corridor just by the east side pier. The sauna rooms were there; Ronon liked to come down here on his longer runs and then steam himself limp.

The room lit up brighter with Sheppard here, and seemed to get warmer without Ronon even activating the makeshift controls for people without the gene. Ronon had always wondered what that must be like for Sheppard—to have everything light up for him, everything in Atlantis so eager for his touch. From the expression of awed happiness on his face right now, it had to be pretty cool.

"I'll never get used to that," Sheppard said with hushed glee, confirming Ronon's guess. "It's like this place knows exactly what I want. Or, almost—" Sheppard cut him a hot look through his dark lashes, and Ronon suppressed a shiver of lust.

That was another reason why he didn't like babysitting right now. Sheppard seemed to have no guards on his tongue at all. He asked for what he wanted, and what he wanted seemed to be...Ronon.

Ronon didn't know what that meant—if Sheppard had wanted him before and never said, or if Sheppard could only want him when he was brain-damaged. Either way, to respond would be a betrayal to the real Sheppard, and Ronon would never do that.

It seemed weird, though, that Sheppard remembered so little about the two of them. Only a couple of innocuous memories, whereas with Rodney, or Teyla, or even Zelenka, he'd retained a lot more. It was stupid, but it hurt a little that Sheppard didn't find him important enough to remember. They'd been through a lot together. They'd been buried together under a building, trapped inside hive ships. Sheppard had come for him on Sateda when Ronon was being hunted. These were strong memories; powerful ones.

And all Sheppard could remember now was teasing Ronon about how he admired Buckaroo Banzai for killing all the red Lectroids from the eighth dimension.

A thought plucked at Ronon's mind while he watched Sheppard take off his sunglasses and dive into the pool. Sheppard remembered movies, he remembered and told Ronon and Rodney and Teyla about riding horses when he was younger. He didn't remember his father's funeral, or the replicators he and Ronon had fought on Earth. He remembered the first time he flew an airplane, but not when Atlantis was under siege. Ronon had heard the stories of that time, of Sheppard's mission to deliver a bomb directly into the hive ship.

Sheppard had just looked at him with a wrinkled brow when Ronon tried to prompt him about it. He had only good memories, it seemed.

"Sheppard," Ronon called.

Sheppard reached the end of the pool and stopped, wiping one hand up over his face and into his dripping hair, which stuck out on either side of his head like horns.

"Do you remember P1V-322? Remember we met some Athosians there who had fled the wraith?"

Sheppard frowned at him.

"Remember? They threw us a big party; they were so happy to see Teyla—"

"We found Qina," Sheppard said suddenly. "Teyla's cousin."

"Yeah."

"They roasted those big, purple fruit shaped like footballs. It tasted good."

"And then?"

"And then...and then..." Sheppard put a hand up and rubbed at his forehead, but it was no good—Ronon knew he wouldn't remember, and then he'd get the headache from trying too hard.

"It's okay. You don't have to remember."

"I—"

"Finish your swimming."

Sheppard looked relieved as he pushed away from the side and started his laps again.

So, Sheppard didn't remember the _rauugat_ that suddenly attacked the small village and injured two of the children before the team killed it. Sheppard didn't remember acting as a diversion and breaking a rib when the creature slammed him into one of the huts.

He only remembered the good parts—the high spirits of reuniting Teyla with more of her people. This confirmed that only good memories had survived the machine. But that didn't explain why Sheppard remembered so little of Ronon, with the exception of a few, early memories when they had first met. What about all the other good memories? The times Ronon had fallen asleep with his feet across Sheppard's legs while he and Rodney battled at chess; their morning runs, flying high above the city on catwalks, blood pounding and legs moving in unison; or the times they'd shared a tent off-world, speaking important thoughts in soft voices under the safety of the dark.

Were those times not good for Sheppard? Were they not good enough that Sheppard's memory could hold them under the influence of the machine?

Ronon gave a disgusted snort; wheels and wheels, cycling back to the start. It was a wasteful way to think. And as long as Sheppard was like this there would be no answers, because the person he wanted to ask didn't exist right now.

And if his memories never returned, Ronon would have to mourn the loss of another friend.

_"Ronon, do you copy?"_

McKay sounded excited. Ronon took a quick glance at Sheppard, who was still slicing through the water, and then turned away to lift his radio.

"I hear you, McKay."

_"Bring Sheppard down to the med lab. I believe we've figured out what the device is for."_

Ronon waited, but there was nothing more.

"And?"

" _Oh. It's an Ascension device. Of course."_ Rodney huffed through the little speaker. _"Those stupid Ancients with their ridiculous fixation on going non-corporeal. Only this time, no super-powers. Instead, the device analyzed Sheppard's memories and spliced out anything unpleasant, any memories_ associated _with anything unpleasant or painful or what have you. They believed, I suppose, if you didn't have any worries you'd be able to Ascend that much quicker. Stupid, really—the real barrier to Ascension is individuality, not misery."_ McKay finally stopped to breathe. _"Anyway,"_ he said, dragging it out, _"could you_ please _bring him down to the med lab? We've managed to isolate all of his data and for once, thank God, those miserable excuses for scientists made sure it was reversible. Otherwise, we'd—well. All of Sheppard's less happy memories would be toast."_

"Then you can fix it? Fix him?"

_"Yes, yes. Didn't I just say that? Bring him down here."_

Ronon had been so wrapped up in listening he hadn't noticed the rhythmic splashing had stopped, or that Sheppard had climbed out of the pool and was standing beside him.

"So, I guess you heard that," Ronon said.

"Yeah, I heard." Sheppard rubbed a small Lantean towel over his head. Ronon couldn't see his face when he said, "Guess that means you want to—you all want him back. Your Sheppard, I mean."

Ronon couldn't say anything for a second. "He's you, Sheppard."

"Nah." Sheppard pulled down the towel and looked him in the eye. "I heard them talk about it. About how different I am, and how they want the 'old' Sheppard back. Well, maybe I don't want to go back."

This was more trouble than Ronon knew how to deal with. He wished Teyla were here. "Let's just go see what McKay has to say."

Sheppard looked at him for a long moment, something careful in the back of his eyes—that wary look Ronon hadn't seen since McKay first zapped him in the sub-lab. But he followed Ronon easily enough, and by the time they'd reached the medical lab, all of Sheppard's attention was on Rodney and the big machine sitting in the middle of the floor. The beds had all been shoved away to make room for the thing, along with a string of Rodney's laptops, which were hooked up to it by what looked like a hundred cables.

"Colonel! John. It's good you are here, John." Radek gave Sheppard a careful pat on the shoulder.

Sheppard had insisted they all call him John, but Radek was the only one who tried to remember, other than Teyla, who had always called him that with a familiarity Ronon envied.

"Yes, yes, we're all pleased as punch, Colonel. Now get over here."

Sheppard gave Ronon a quick look before walking over to join Rodney. Keller said, sounding concerned, "You're all wet? Why are you wet? And where's your shirt?"

"I was swimming," Sheppard said, folding his arms across his chest. He did shiver then, but Keller pushed a set of scrubs at him.

While Sheppard put them on, McKay started talking. "We've learned three important things in analyzing the data from the machine and in locating the entry in the database. First," McKay raised his finger, "this is an Ascension device. Yet another aborted experiment, not really authorized by the Ancients' council. And the reason for that is...it doesn't work. Apparently, being happy doesn't make you any more likely to Ascend. If anything, from what I could glean from their notes, happy people tend not to want to leave this plane of existence. Funny thing."

"Yeah, real funny," Sheppard said. He didn't sound happy right now, and Ronon took a step closer.

Sheppard's tone of voice had made Rodney jerk his head in surprise, and he peered at him. "The second thing we've learned is it can be reversed. All the records of your memories were time-stamped—in Ancient dates, of course, but since your entries are about ten thousand years more recent than the last Ancient entries, they were pretty easy to isolate." McKay frowned. "But the third thing is, based on Keller's scans and the notes, from what we understand of the process—" Rodney cut himself off and looked to the side, his chin jutting out. "In the process of removing memories and splicing together what was left, the machine actually changed the physiognomy of your brain. To force those memories back in, you will, in essence, have to relive them. Not in real-time, of course, but it will feel from your perspective as if you're there while the machine reads them back into your mind. It might be...a little uncomfortable."

Sheppard had backed away while McKay was talking, and when his shoulders bumped into Ronon's chest, he turned to give Ronon the same pleading look he had earlier.

"What if I don't want to do it? What if I like how I am right now?" Sheppard asked in a tense voice.

McKay looked surprised, which was stupid. He'd essentially just told Sheppard he'd have to be tortured for this thing to work. Keller gave McKay a quick glance, as if to stop him from saying anything more, and she stepped forward.

"John, this isn't you. Believe me when I tell you that _when_ you have your memories back, you'll have made the same decision. I mean, the decision to do it."

Sheppard was already shaking his head stubbornly. "You can't make me be him if I don't want to."

"Actually, at present you are _non compos mentis_. Which means you're being an idiot," McKay snapped, worry under the anger. "We can do anything we want, including _fix_ you, Colonel. We don't need your permission to do it."

Ronon had been expecting it, but was still surprised when Sheppard yelled, "Like hell, you will!" and darted away toward the door.

"Jesus! Grab him, someone!" McKay yelled, but Sheppard was already gone in a blur of white. Ronon started to follow, his radio crackling as McKay made an announcement over the emergency band and then notified Carter about what was going on.

Ronon wasn't very concerned. This Sheppard didn't really stand a chance against a cadre of marines. For one thing, he was now much less familiar with the city. For another, he'd lost all of his combat training and experience. It wouldn't be difficult to find him.

Eventually, by following the shouts and the directions being called out over the radio, he caught up with the group tracking Sheppard, who they'd cornered in the puddlejumper bay. Ronon heard a yell of pain—unmistakably Sheppard's—and started running finally, thinking how stupid he was for assuming Sheppard's marines would go easy on him. Sheppard—any Sheppard—would obviously fight back as hard as he could, and maybe the marines didn't believe he was really their commanding officer. Ronon had no idea how they'd been briefed to capture him.

That was when Ronon finally realized what a tactical error they had all made. Treating this Sheppard as the enemy would only make him dig in and try harder to fight them off. And Ronon wasn't sure what the real Sheppard's reaction would be to all this once he had his memories back.

"Stop," Ronon said as he plunged through the door. Sheppard was on the ground, one marine on each limb, still struggling wildly. His face was red, his eyes furious, and his nose was bleeding. It looked broken.

"Ronon! Help me!" Sheppard yelled.

"Stop it," Ronon growled again, lifting one of the marines away and pushing a second to the side so he could squat next to Sheppard. Ronon put his hand on Sheppard's shoulder and saw him wince with pain. "Get off of him. Now." Ronon said, suddenly furious, and the other two marines, Harcourt and Reese, backed away.

"Shoulder," Sheppard said, his breath hitching. "My shoulder's caught."

"Don't move," Ronon said.

"It hurts! God, it hurts so bad."

"I can fix it. Trust me," Ronon said.

Sheppard stared up at him, eyes wide, and nodded.

"Try to relax." Ronon set both hands on either side of the joint, his knee under Sheppard's arm. With a hard squeeze and tug, the bone popped back into the socket, and Sheppard's sharp cry of pain faded into a whimper.

"God. That sucked." Sheppard licked his lips. "Thanks."

Ronon helped him to his feet. The four marines were still standing in a wary circle, but Ronon waved them away. "I'll take him," he said.

They exchanged a look, and then one of them, Harcourt, saluted smartly. "Yes, sir."

"Come over here," Ronon said to Sheppard, and led him up the ramp into one of the jumpers before closing the rear hatch. He pulled down the first aid kit and popped an ice pack, shook it, and then held it out, gesturing toward Sheppard's face. "For your nose."

Sheppard started to take the pack, and then winced and switched to his other hand. "Thanks." He sat down on the jumper's bench. When he pressed the pack to his nose, Ronon popped another and put his arm around Sheppard to hold it to his opposite shoulder.

"They hurt me," Sheppard said, his voice muffled but still clearly disbelieving. "Why?"

"They're just trying to help."

"Some help."

Ronon shrugged. "They want you back."

" _Him_ , you mean."

"Yeah. I guess."

"Why should I want to be him? He fucks everything up." Sheppard dropped the ice pack into his lap and scrubbed the blood from his mouth and chin. "You think I don't know, but I looked it all up. Nancy divorced him. Mitch and Dex are dead. Holland," Sheppard's voice cracked, "Holland is dead. He's got no one. He fucked everything up, got black marked, and ended up here. Alone."

"You have us. The team. Teyla, McKay...me." Ronon's stomach clenched with the admission.

"You're not getting it," Sheppard said angrily. "He has _no one_ here. He's alone. And his mission reports read like _Friday the 13th_ meets _The Planet of the Apes_. You wouldn't believe the scars he has all over him. Me. He killed his commanding officer and now he's responsible for _everyone_. Everyone here calls him Sheppard, or Colonel, not John or Shep. He's pathetic. He's _alone_. I don't want to be that guy."

Fear made Ronon's voice thick. "I'm telling you, you read it wrong. He has _me_. Listen." Ronon tilted his head and deliberately pressed his lips against Sheppard's temple. "John...listen to what I'm telling you."

Sheppard twitched and shifted nervously under his arm. "I thought, maybe...but I—I tried with you, and you just—you didn't want—"

"You're not him." It was hard to say it, to see the disappointed sag of Sheppard's mouth, but Ronon went on, "I respect him. He's strong, he has courage, he'd do anything for us. He's—he's beautiful to me." Ronon's throat was tight.

"He has you? Really?" Sheppard pulled away so he could look Ronon in the face.

"Yes." It wasn't a lie, not really. Or it wouldn't be, when this was over. Ronon swore it in his heart and said it again. "He has me."

"Why don't I remember that? I don't _remember_." Sheppard dropped his head. "McKay said it would hurt. A lot."

"I'll be there."

"Yeah?"

"Trust me."

Sheppard sat for a long time thinking it over. Ronon tried not to get impatient, to push him further. He just waited, feeling the warmth of Sheppard's body tucked in close next to him, the hard muscle under his forearm. After a while he dared to briefly rub his thumb over the back of Sheppard's neck, pushing the soft, short hair there against the grain.

As if it were a signal, Sheppard stirred and nodded once, his neck flexing beneath Ronon's palm. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Heavy sigh. "I'll do it. They wouldn't let me stay, anyway. They'd ship me back, and...I like it here." Sheppard looked over at him.

"All right. Let's go."

Ronon stood and helped him to his feet, and together they walked back to the lab.

:::

"There you are! Took your sweet time, didn't you?' McKay asked, but his eyes were worried. "Everything okay? You look like hell."

"He's okay," Ronon said, even though Sheppard hadn't managed to wipe all the blood from his face, and was holding his injured left arm against his torso. "The marines were a little rough on him," Ronon added.

Keller made a concerned sound and came forward. She raised her hands toward Sheppard's face, saw him flinch back, and stopped, looking uncertain.

"Let her check your nose," Ronon said. "Or it'll end up being even uglier than before."

Sheppard shot him a half-smile and stood still for Keller's touch.

"It's not broken," she said, "but you should ice it some more. You're going to have two black eyes as it is. And what did they do to your arm?"

"Came out of the socket. Ronon put it back in," Sheppard said, and Keller glared at Ronon.

Ronon shrugged. "Field medic."

"Just don't go treating my patients."

"I asked him to," Sheppard said belligerently, perhaps not realizing Keller was teasing.

"It's okay. She knows," Ronon said.

Keller guided Sheppard to an infirmary bed and sat him down.

Ronon looked around while they all waited for her to complete her examination. McKay looked antsy, like he just wanted to get on with it. Zelenka was by the device, checking some readings in his pad. Carter was sitting on one of the other infirmary beds, her legs swinging like a child's.

There were two marines stationed by the door.

Keller bandaged Sheppard's arm tightly to his body, an ice pack tucked underneath over his shoulder, and then she pulled the ice pack away from his face and gave his nose another look.

"All right," she said, stepping back. "Do you want anything for the pain?"

Sheppard shook his head, his eyes still wary.

"I guess some things never change," Carter said wryly.

"Are you finished? Yes? All right. Sheppard, you sit there—" McKay snapped his fingers and pointed at the chair in front of the device, beneath a cone-shape. Keller bustled around placing contacts on Sheppard's temples and chest, then connected them to a monitor. The screen lit up with Sheppard's pulse-rate—too fast—while jagged lines trailed across, charting Sheppard's brain activity.

The whole time, Sheppard kept his eyes on Ronon, the look pleading. But he didn't speak, and Ronon nodded once, crossing his arms.

"We debated the order—first extracted, or reverse chronological? I decided—"

Zelenka cleared his throat.

" _Zelenka_ and I decided the best course would be to build from the oldest extracted to the newest. Colonel?" McKay looked at Carter.

"Go ahead, Rodney."

McKay placed his fingers on his keyboard, but then paused and tilted his head at Sheppard, "I guess—are you ready?"

Sheppard nodded, then said, "No. Wait." He took a breath through his nose, and his lips thinned. "Okay. Do it."

Ronon wasn't sure what he'd been expecting—for Sheppard to scream, maybe—but it all happened in eerie silence but for the sudden hum of the Ancestors' device. Sheppard's good hand clutched the arm of the chair, and his face screwed into a grimace, eyes squeezed shut.

Keller made a worried sound, and Ronon looked over at her. She was examining the monitor readings, where the heart-rate had shot up and all the jagged lines were pulling into dense peaks and valleys. Ronon's eyes went back to Sheppard.

The hum of the machine sharpened, and Sheppard jerked. For a brief second his eyes opened wide-wide, and then they closed again and he lurched sideways.

Ronon pushed forward to kneel beside Sheppard and brace him in the chair. It didn't seem like he was breathing, and Keller yelled, "Stop! Rodney, stop!"

"Just give him a second," McKay said nervously. "The same thing happened before."

It seemed like he was right, because after a moment Sheppard choked out a breath and then started panting, his eyes still shut tight. He made a small sound, almost a whimper, and jerked again.

Ronon wondered what he was remembering. He wondered if it was childhood or youth that made Sheppard clench his teeth, made tears squeeze from the corners of Sheppard's eyes. What memory made him moan and dip his chin. Which one made a high, sad sound drop from his mouth.

"God, this is awful," Keller whispered.

It seemed to take forever, watching Sheppard twitching and grimacing and shuddering. His back arched suddenly, a yell cut off, and Ronon tightened his grip around Sheppard's waist to hold him in the chair. When Sheppard reached up and clawed at his chest, Ronon knew exactly what memory caused it, and he knew they were getting closer to the end. He leaned toward Sheppard and said as low as he could, "Almost, John. It's almost over."

But it was more long minutes before the machine at last made a beep and the humming stopped. Sheppard's face was shiny with sweat, his waist damp under Ronon's arm and his body still trembling slightly when he finally opened his eyes.

Carter was off the bed and standing before them, McKay next to her.

Sheppard blinked at them, then closed his eyes. "Oh," he said.

"Colonel," McKay said hesitantly, "Are you...all there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Rodney." Sheppard's voice sounded dead.

"You remember?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard straightened suddenly, and Ronon's arm fell away.

"Yeah, I remember." His eyes flickered over at Ronon as he said roughly, "I remember everything."

:::

Keller insisted on having Sheppard back in a bed to get checked out, and Ronon got pushed to the side. Then he got involved in helping move the Ancestors' machine back to the sub-lab. By the time he returned, Keller was finishing up with Sheppard, who said, "I gotta go take a piss," and pushed himself to his feet. He gave Harcourt an evil look at the door, saying, "Report to Major Lorne, and tell him to put you, Reese, Murdoc, and Williams on KP duty for the foreseeable future." Then, with his old mocking smirk and a wave to everyone, Sheppard left.

He'd gone easier on the marines than Ronon would have chosen, but he smiled when he thought of how he'd have them all in the sparring room eventually. Maybe he'd talk to Lorne and make it sooner rather than later.

Ronon helped Jennifer move the last bed into place and then sat down to wait for Sheppard. And wait. After fifteen minutes it occurred to him Sheppard wasn't coming back. Maybe he'd been dragged away by people wanting to talk to him about backlogged paperwork, or maybe just to welcome him back. Maybe Sheppard got hungry and went to the mess.

Maybe Ronon was being stupid, because Sheppard would have known he was waiting. He would have come back if he wanted to. He obviously didn't want to.

Ronon wasn't sure if that answered his old question, or just brought up a whole new one. But he knew where to find out.

:::

He didn't find Sheppard in his office, where Lorne just gave him a weary smile and a shrug. Sheppard wasn't in the gym, or on the balcony outside the gate room, or in his quarters. He wasn't in the mess, although the cook on duty told him Sheppard had stopped by to filch a bowl of instant cereal and a banana. Sheppard was the only other person Ronon knew who liked to eat breakfast at dinner time.

Finally, Ronon thought to go to the one place he should have tried first.

Someone had mopped the center of the deck recently, cleaning up the spatters from Sheppard's nose bleed—either one of the marines in disgrace, or Sheppard himself, who Ronon found sitting at the controls of jumper one.

Sheppard's neck went stiff when Ronon walked in, but Ronon ignored his glare and sat in the co-pilot's seat. After a moment, Sheppard reached over and closed the rear hatch.

They sat in silence for a long time. Ronon had lived a good part of his life sunk in deep quiet, either in hiding or simply because there was no one there to talk to. He figured Sheppard would break before he did.

He was right.

"People have been asking me what it was like. I didn't tell them. They wouldn't like the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"That it was great. It felt like being a little kid, running naked through the sprinklers. So, ask me how I feel now."

Ronon cocked his head.

"Like a fucking moron. Like I'm still naked. But with a killer headache. It almost feels like it happened to someone else, except they're all my fucked memories, now."

"You're mad because McKay and Zelenka brought them back."

Sheppard sighed. "I'm not mad at them."

"Then you're mad at me. For my part in it."

"I'm not. Of course you had to—I understand why you—" He cut himself off and didn't say anything for a long time. Ronon looked away, thinking it might help, but he could still see Sheppard's shoulders drop from the corner of his eye.

"You don't have to worry. I'm not holding you to it," Sheppard said quietly. "It was a lie—easy enough to fool me, how I was. And it needed to be done, I get that."

Ronon wanted to laugh. "You're more the same than you think," he said, and turned to face Sheppard, waiting for him to turn as well.

Sheppard did, but slowly, and wouldn't meet Ronon's eyes.

"I didn't like being around you like that," Ronon said finally, seeking his way through the maze of words needed. "It bothered me, the way you were—the way _he_ —was missing...parts of you. But I liked that he asked me for what he wanted."

Sheppard's head jerked up at that, his eyebrows twisting in an unreadable frown. Disbelief, Ronon decided.

"John. You never asked."

"You never called me 'John'," Sheppard snapped back, then winced. "Sorry. I'm just—my mom always said I should never have nice things. I always broke them, or got them dirty." He bit his lip. "Or got them killed—starting with my dog."

It felt like a change of subject, but Ronon knew it wasn't. "Dog? Like Einstein in that movie?"

"Yeah. He was my best friend. I let him off-leash and he got run over. I'd forgotten all about it until Rodney put the memory back in."

"The same thing happened with my pet _meer'ka_. He liked to ride in my jacket pocket. One day I left it on a chair and my mother's sister...sat on him."

Sheppard's eyebrows jumped. "Holy shit."

"She was a very big woman." Ronon could tell Sheppard was trying not to laugh.

"Sorry."

"No. I'm sorry I didn't stop Harcourt and the others before they hurt you."

Flicking his eyes away, Sheppard said, "It's not your fault."

"Yeah. It is. I was too slow to follow. I thought everyone would do their best to protect you. I thought everyone felt like I do."

"And how's that?" Sheppard asked, his voice low.

It was Ronon's turn to look away, suddenly tongue-tied. "This was easier with him," he mumbled.

"Because he was different. He was me, minus the fucked up personality."

"No. Because he didn't remember me." Ronon took deep breath and met Sheppard's eyes. "Why didn't he remember me, John?"

Sheppard blew out a sigh. "You _know_ why."

"No—"

"You do. Think about it," Sheppard said tensely.

"We had good times together. They were _good_."

"They were. They were, but they...weren't good, too. Because the whole time I was...thinking. About what I really wanted."

"Oh." Ronon chewed his lip. Sheppard had straightened in his seat, tensed as if ready for a blow, waiting. "Then," Ronon said slowly, "we'll just make them all good from now on."

"Oh," Sheppard echoed, a brief, brilliant smile flashing across his face. "Not that I really know how to keep things all good."

"Neither do I. But I could try. I want to try. With you." As each slow, stupid word left Ronon's mouth, he saw the smile begin again, this time starting at Sheppard's eyes. In spite of the dark bruises beneath them, and his puffy, reddened nose, he looked strangely young and content again, like the other Sheppard.

"I like the sound of that." They stared at each other a moment, then Sheppard's hand came out, and Ronon grabbed it, pulling them both to their feet. Sheppard took a look toward the front port and turned, tugging Ronon into the back, where he let go to close the bulkhead. "Privacy," he said.

Ronon crossed his arms. "Do we need it for something?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

But Sheppard didn't respond to the joke. He took a step forward and said seriously, "Yeah. We do."

"Okay," Ronon said, but he was already opening his arms and lowering his head, heat filling his belly. His fingers touched the center of Sheppard's back at the same moment their lips met, and he felt a shudder travel through Sheppard's body. It made Ronon's chest ache a little, and he deepened the kiss.

Sheppard's lips were soft and tasted of blood still, reminding Ronon to be careful not to bump into Sheppard's nose while he kissed him, long, slow kisses, more leisurely than he would have expected from Sheppard, but then, Ronon had learned many new things about the man these past few days. And now he knew what Sheppard tasted like, and that he was a good kisser, and that his ass was as round and tight as it looked in all those baggy pants.

Sheppard made a desperate sound, his good arm traveling around Ronon's waist to pull him closer, but the injured one was caught between them, and Ronon felt him jerk with pain.

"Careful," Ronon said, pushing him back a few inches.

"Yeah, I guess. Damn it."

"You'll get better."

"And then?" Sheppard looked stubborn.

Ronon kissed him again, taking time to nibble his pouting lower lip. "And then we'll make even better memories."

"Hey, I'm still good for this, at least. Except, first—" Sheppard tilted his head, and the bright interior lights dimmed to a warm glow, making Sheppard smile—the same, gleeful smile from before. "I'll never get used to that."

Ronon laughed, his heart suddenly light, and then set himself to kissing Sheppard the best he could.

He would make it worth remembering.

  


_End._  



End file.
